


Seven Cherry Tomato Bushes

by ienablu



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:59:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The full moon washes the community garden in a pale white light, and Sharon waits for her extraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Cherry Tomato Bushes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rmc28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmc28/gifts).



> To rmc28, your letter really pinged me. I interpreted some elements a bit loosely, but this is the story that wanted to be told. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks to tielan for running the fest, and allowing me to play.

The full moon washes the community garden in a pale white light.

Sharon had to fight for its allowance as one of her extraction points. If her life were on the line, this is not the extraction point she would hide out in. But for what it is, it's perfect. Small, out of the way, secure. Close, too, which makes it ideal after a successful mission that resulted in a minor (possible) tibia fracture.

The garden is surrounded by apartment buildings on three sides and an alley on the fourth, which makes it easy for Sharon to see anyone before they see her.

It's sometime around midnight when a dark, charcoal gray SUV drives down the alleyway. The headlines bathe the cherry tomato bushes in golden glow for a few seconds, before the car continues down the alleyway, gravel crunching under the wheels.

Seated on a low sandstone bench, hidden behind strategically planted bushes, Sharon remains out of sight. There's no way the agents could have seen her, but they'll know she's here.

Sure enough, five minutes pass before she hears the crunch of gravel once more. Fainter, this time, and through a break in the foliage, Sharon watches Victoria Hand walk into the garden. Sharon’s glad to see her. Judging by the slight furrow to her brow, Victoria is less glad to be here. In the illumination of the moon, it’s easy to track every flick of Victoria’s gaze as she looks around, assess the garden and surrounding buildings.

The security of the garden comes from those three apartment buildings. The apartment building Victoria walked past houses an FBI informant. The one Sharon has her back is home to a covert CIA operative. The third, far building serves as a love nest for a wealthy former attorney with ties to the mafia. Victoria knows this if she's coming to extract Sharon, but that knowledge does nothing to ease the frown. 

The garden itself doesn't have the same security. Plants are laid out so there are plenty of blind spots, but there is no easy escape. Except for Sharon, who has a contact the second floor up behind her (just a shimmy up the rain gutter), and a contact on the first floor of the building with the love nest (just a pick of the window lock).

Victoria makes her way over, kitten heels ill-suited for the rock and gravel paths between raised beds of vegetables and flowers. "Interesting extraction point."

"It's secure."

"Your original extraction point would have been more secure."

"This one was closer."

Victoria's assessing frown deepens, as she gazes up and down Sharon. "How's your leg, then?"

Some handlers have been known to give some of their agents a hard time when the agent was in pain or injured after a mission. Sharon has received her fair share. Usually she has experienced or heard of this happening with male handlers and female agents. Surprisingly. She has not worked with Victoria much in the past, but Victoria's reputation precedes her, and condescension is not part of that reputation. Sharon can speak freely, and not worry about any judgement. "Not great," she admits. "Possible fracture."

"Immediate medical assistance?" Victoria asks. It's a plaintive question, no assumption or mockery behind it.

From anyone else, Sharon would be bristling slightly. But from Victoria, it was a plaintive question, no assumption or mockery behind it. "Not necessary," she replies, though if the pain is starting to make her eyes water.

Hand nods. "The car is parked two blocks down. Do you want me to call it in closer?"

Sharon shakes her head. "Having the car double back may raise some alarm, or draw attention. I should be able to make it down two blocks." She takes in a deep breath through her nose, and lets it out through her mouth. "What I would like are some painkillers, if you have any on you."

Victoria takes that as her cue to sit down next to Sharon. The bench is not wide, and her arm brushes against Sharon’s, even as she scoots over a few inches. Victoria reaches into her coat pocket, and two seconds later, she's holding her hand out.

Two small white pills drop into Sharon's palm. A hydrocodone/paracetamol combo formulated in the Hub, Sharon guesses. She's studying for an upcoming nurse cover, and there should be facts reciting themselves in the back of her mind, but the pain has gotten worse since she drew attention to it. She takes a bracing breath, and dry-swallows the pills. It's not a pleasant sensation, as dry-swallowing pills never has been, but Victoria pretends not to notice Sharon's grimace.

It takes a few minutes for the throbbing in her leg to dull, and her and Victoria sit in silence until then. There are handlers who try to fill in the air with questions, comments, idle observations, unneeded conversation. Victoria Hand is not one of them, to Sharon’s relief. She's content to stay silent, looking around, taking in the view.

It's a pretty garden. It's part of the reason why Sharon fought so hard for it. It’s too early in the season for the vegetables to ready for harvest, but the flowers are all in full bloom. The colors aren’t as vibrant this time of night, all washed out into different purples and blues, but it still holds it own beauty.

Better than the underground carpark as the original extraction point.

"You know," Victoria starts, a few minutes later. "There are generally better ways to tail a target than jumping onto their car. Less showy ways, too."

It’s more a dry humor than a reprimand, and so Sharon replies,"Family trait."

Victoria snorts.

She grins. "Or so Aunt Peggy tells me."

“As is getting the job done, and done well.”

Victoria Hand is not one for simply handing out compliments. Sharon’s grin fades into a softer smile. “Thanks,” she says, quietly.

“Ready?”

Sharon thinks she could spend a few minutes more, sitting here, enjoying the silence with Victoria, but there’s clean-up still needing to be done, debriefing to go through. She nods.

Victoria stands up first, and holds her hand out.

Sharon takes a steadying breath, and grabs Victoria’s hands, letting her pull her up to standing. She keeps her weight on her uninjured left leg, her right foot only scarcely touching the ground. After a moment, making sure she’s steady, she throws her arm around Victoria’s shoulders, and Victoria wraps a firm arm around Sharon’s waist.

Victoria takes the first step forward, and Sharon lets herself lean more into her as she takes a step to match. Painful, but manageable. She nods in response to the questioning expression of Victoria’s face.

Together, they make their way out of the garden.


End file.
